#//welp! looks like Richard has officially committed murder for Vic ahjkghdsjkg//

[richardxoliverxmayhew]

[ SIX ] for receiver to witness sender get hurt which sends them into a violent rage. (for the mafia au)

FOR THE “YOU CAN KILL ME BUT DON’T YOU DARE TOUCH THEM” DYNAMICS: ACCEPTING

II @vxctorx

His thumb, bruised with tenderness, swept across the faint cut drawn across the young gentleman's cheek attributed from Fraser's sharpened knuckle. If it wasn't for Richard protectively cocooning Vic's face against his wearied palms one would overlook the gash of red. Not Richard. --Taking the very subject of the Scotsman's months'-long fascination was one thing, but hurting him right in front of Richard's presence? How dare the bastard extract a brittle chink upon His golden canvas. That didn't even qualify as a strike. That had crossed the limit. Fraser had made his bed and Richard would make damned sure he'd sleep in it. Never to wake. The captor continued to prattle on about the deal, but the Scotsman hadn't heard a single word. All of his attention, his concern, his overwhelming sense of possession, all of it drawn towards Vic. Nevertheless, amidst his silence and the shielding touch of his worn hands, below the surface was far from calm. Richard could feel his father's poisoned rage gnawing at his heart; violent flames licking against the frames of his ribcage, screeching to come out. It wasn't until deepened yet hushed words, "don't look," were uttered at the young gentleman that a trace of his father's curse bled from his careless tongue.

"Do we have a deal, Mayhew?" Finally, letting go of Vic, Richard stood up to face the other, noting Fraser's outstretched hand. Not a word was uttered when he affirmed the criminal's offer with his own constricting grip, before tugging Fraser close and fiercely wrenching his knife's blade into his gut. The bastard fought. He clawed. He wriggled like a pathetic worm, but Richard didn't let go. Instead, with his blade still stabbed through the bastard's flesh, he shoved Fraser's figure against the nearby brick wall before kneeing him hard in the groin. "I would've accepted the bloo'y deal, but ye' went too far there, Fraser. Too fuckin' far.-- Stand up straigh' and look me in the eye when I'm talkin' to ye'," he snarled, propping Fraser's body upright by the heel of his knife, nothing but gilted steel and the Scotsman's own brawn supporting the criminal's looming frame. "The deal was as good as done, but the minute ye' took Him, tha's when ye' crossed the line," continued Richard, barring his teeth at the other, revealing the contours of a cruel and godless smile. "And then--oho--and then ye' took it one step further." A steady hand mindfully rammed the blade in deeper, eating away centimeter by centimeter. He could feel the tip begin to dig against Fraser's spine. "I told ye' tha' ye' weren't to lay a single finger on him. Hm? Remember? Not one finger, I said." "W-... Ward-.... Ward... Will....--" Richard swiftly unpinned the blade from Fraser's middle before immediately darting it right into his chest. "Ward will get the message," the Scotsman whispered into the criminal's ear, before withdrawing his knife and watching Fraser's body slump against the stained bricks.